What If?
by angstwins
Summary: A story of Draco and Hermione at Hogwarts (starts in 6th year), with a different twist. Maybe they aren't so different after all...


A/N: Hey guys! Thanks SO much for reading this, it's our first ever fanfic, so hop on and enjoy the ride. Reviews of all sorts appreciated greatly. 33

P.S. You'll notice there's no cover art. We were wondering if any one of you would like to design the art for the story? Message us at angstwins if you're interested!

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"Bye Mum," I said, planting a kiss on her cheek. Worry lines gathered at the corners of her eyes before they crinkled into a small smile.

"Be careful, okay?" she said, holding me in her arms as if she could close the distance between my home and Hogwarts in a single hug. My father stood next to her, dressed in a hideous tweed jacket, which made me giggle every time at how utterly Muggle he looked.

"Mione, what are you looking at?" he said, laughing boisterously, while giving me an affectionate noogie on the forehead.

"Nothing, Pa. Just that you look _absolutely_ ridiculous. But I love you anyways." My voice caught when I thought about Voldemort and the grave danger the entire world- both Muggle and Wizarding- was in. But I pushed the worries to the corner of my mind. Well, full faith effort anyways.

 _Hermione, you're strong. Stop this nonsense, you're going to survive and be just fine._

" _Maybe I'll be okay, I can protect myself... but Mum…? And Dad? Just look how Muggle they are," her inner demons taunted._

I saw Harry and Ron, who had spent the summer together at the Weasley house, doing God knows what.

"Hermione!" they yelled simultaneously, attracting the attention of everyone in the vicinity. I blushed, and stalked over to them, eyes glued to the floor.

"Everyone's staring, what are you doing?" I groaned, smacking them both playfully on their shoulders. Ron's blue eyes followed me as I greeted the rest of the family - Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with Ginny, Fred, and George.

One at a time, we wheeled (or in Ron's case smashed) our carts through the brick wall of Platform 9 3/4, and stepped into the Wizarding world. The Hogwarts Express shone in the light, and a sea of people bubbled everywhere.

I closed my eyes for a second, taking it all in at once.

"Oh Neville…"

"Did you hear what Lee's bringing this time?!"

"Don't forget to write home, dearie..." followed by an exasperated "Yeah, yeah Mum."

I felt Ron's arm around my shoulder and I immediately wrapped my arm around Harry's neck, and the three of us clamored onto the train laughing about Luna Lovegood's glasses and the greenish blob Lee claimed was a living being. I highly doubted this, but I decided now was not the best time to pull out my new textbooks and find out.

It was good to be back.

" **Jesus** **Christ**. Get down here this instant," Father bellowed. I rolled my eyes, looking in the mirror at my bleach-blonde hair. It was rumpled, and stuck up in the back, exactly the way my father hated it. _Perfect_ , I grumbled to myself, wondering whether it was worth it to challenge him.

Rubbing my hand lightly over the purple bruise on my collarbone which bloomed across the pale color of my skin, I decided against it for the present, and ripped my comb through it until I resembled the son my father wished he had.

I put on my robes, slightly irritated by the wrinkles that wouldn't go away, and carefully arranging my tie to fall over the bruise. Father would have a hissy fit if anyone saw it: Lucius Malfoy didn't need any more bad press than what he already had. When I glanced over my shoulder, all I could see were the wrinkles and slicked back hair.

And I looked like a ragamuffin, rough-around-the-edges version of Father. Especially with the fucking skull and snake brand that _lived_ _and breathed_ on my fucking forearm.

If that doesn't scare you, nothing will.

I ran down the stairs, hardly noticing the house elf sweeping the entryway, all of my attention focused on my father. Sweeping his hair over his shoulder, he walked out of the Manor, relying on his wand-stick more than I remembered.

I grabbed my trunk and plopped it in the trunk of the sleek hired car while Father made a snide remark about Muggle transportation.

"When they think _seventy kilometers an hour_ is _speeding_ …" he jeered, sitting in the front of the lee-musine. I wasn't quite sure what they were called, because of the driver's heavy Sussex accent, but I could tell that Muggles considered them extravagant just by the envious looks the car was getting as we rocketed past- leaving a smoke trail of dirt in their green faces.

"Laughable, I know. They're such imbeciles-those Muggles," I replied absently, tracing the outline of the window as trees flashed by.

The car pulled into the station after an eternity of reminders that I wasn't the perfect son Father wanted. _As if I needed them_. He was right about one thing, though. Muggle transportation was just about as fast as dried shit.

I took my stuff and left quickly as Father fired his parting shot.

"Don't let the Mudblood beat you again this year…"

Scowling, I huffed through the brick barrier and watched all the _happy_ families with the _happy_ kids waving _happily_ through the train windows. I boarded the train, looking contemptuously down at _them_ and their _happy_ lives.

I saw Blaise and Pansy in a compartment together, and felt slightly convulsed at thought of making small talk, while the pain radiating from my forearm pulsated through me. But I forced a knowing smirk onto my face, and slung down beside them, choking my fingers in my lap. The scene outside the window changed to a blur of green and gray and brown, and as Pansy's giggling crescendoed, I became less and less conscious and more and more lost in my own mind.


End file.
